


Sleepover

by Dorkangel



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Siblings, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Edie Lives!!, Erik's children are his siblings, Family Fluff, In case the character tags didn't warn you this is about Erik's family, Lehnsherr metaphorical cuddle pile, M/M, Not the best thing I've ever written tbh, Why Did I Write This?, dammit we need more Edie Lehnsherr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 01:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2449727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorkangel/pseuds/Dorkangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Erik is the oldest of five children, and therefore contractually obliged to drive the younger four to school, else his mother will come over to his apartment and whack him one.<br/>Unfortunately, he's in bed with Charles when they turn up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is utter fluff/crap. Don't read this is dodgy sorry lines and pointless feels make you cringe.  
> Only written because I'm working on a long, dark one in which a shit ton of people's families get murdered and I wanted happiness for once!

Sleepover

Charles woke as Erik did, lying over the taller men, and nuzzled into his boyfriend's neck, smiling sleepily against the skin.  
Erik obligingly wrapped strong arms around him and hugged, pulling Charles over so that he was curled against Erik's warm, naked body, each fitting the other perfectly.  
"Good morning," he heard Erik mumble happily.  
"Wasn't I meant to go home last night?" teased Charles, prodding Erik accusingly in the chest.  
"Not my fault you fell asleep." Erik's sleep-muffled voice carried a hint of the accent that he would usually hide awake, and it made Charles have to suppress a grin.  
"Technically, it is."  
"Oh, shut up, you-"  
They were interrupted by the sound of Erik's apartment door opening, and exchanged half-panicked, half-confused glances.  
"Who's that?" asked Charles softly, and Erik sat up. "I don't know. What day is it?"  
"Um... Monday?"  
"Shit-"  
"Errrrrrik!" moaned a kid's voice, muffled by the door. "You better be awake! Mama says you have to take us to school or she'll come for you with a rolling pin."  
Charles laughed and Erik half-fell out of bed, looking for his pants frantically.  
"Just a moment, Pietro!"  
Charles grinned, tongue in cheek, and wrapped the blankets around him as he pulled himself upright too.  
"Anyone I should know, dear?"  
"It's my brother, I'm supposed to be driving him because my mother hat in diesem Land seit zwanzig Jahren lebte und immer noch nicht fahren kann, verdammt noch mal-"  
Erik only lapsed into German when he was extremely pissed, a habit that he had retained at his mother's insistence too, apparently. She had been adamant that he didn't forget where he came from, which was also why he spoke Hebrew and Yiddish.  
He also did it because it was easier and Charles spoke German anyway.  
"Erik?" came the kid's voice again. "We're gonna be late, what're you doing?"  
"Getting dressed, give me a minute!"  
He pulled on a t-shirt that was just a little too tight - nice abs, something horribly shallow in Charles thought appreciatively - and turned to Charles to point a helpless finger.  
"And don't you go coming out of this room, Gott knows they're hard enough to deal with without YOU."  
"What on earth are you accusing me of?"  
Charles fluttered his eyelids innocently, and Erik narrowed his. "That. Evil cuteness. It shouldn't be allowed. And I'm probably supposed to make them all poptarts or something too, so if anyone asks you're here on a sleepover."  
"A sleepover?!"  
"Pietro is nine, Charles, he doesn't know the meaning of the words 'one night stand'."  
Charles pouted. "First you call me evil, then you call me a one night stand."  
"Oh, you know what I mean."  
Someone knocked loudly on the bedroom door and made them jump.  
"Pietro might not know what that means," sing-songed a different voice. "But Anya is thirteen and she does."  
Erik cursed and she laughed and moved off, but Charles just frowned a little. "How many siblings do you have?"  
"Four. Anya, Pietro, Wanda and Lorna. All younger than me, all born after we moved."  
"Can I meet them?"  
Erik's eyes widened in alarm. "Not now! I mean, they're insane and you're insane and if I don't drop them off then my mother will actually LITERALLY come after me with a rolling pin. Some other time though, sure."  
Charles smiled and lay back down, content to sleep. "I love Edie," he mumbled into the pillows. Erik kissed his temple tenderly. "You would."

Over text, he had got permission I stay at Erik's apartment and type up his thesis all day, while Erik went off to do engineer-y things in his office. And it was by text that he received the strangest warning that Erik was coming home:  
'Be nice to my sister. There was a fire.'  
He started to reply 'Well, that was cryptic', but then the door crashed open and he was greeted by a loud gaggle of children's voices and Erik's deep, dry tones.  
Two kids - one little boy with hair so blonde it seemed white, down to his shoulders, and a little girl with softly curling, long, reddish brown hair, but both with the same stormy eyes, like Erik - burst into the room, breathing quickly in excitement or apprehension, eyes bright. They were followed quickly by a smaller little girl, a wispy brunette with a green braid, and then Erik. There was a blonde girl behind him, a little taller than the others, but she stayed behind him.  
"You said you wanted to meet them." deadpanned Erik, and Charles beamed at him and stood up.  
"Oh, how wonderful-"  
"Twins," interrupted Erik, in the kind of bored voice he used when he was happy. He pointed to the first pair to come in, who were both in matching blue woollen beanies and blue parkas. Clearly Edie had decided what they would be wearing today, or they probably wouldn't be quite so neatly wrapped up.  
"Wanda and Pietro. Lorna-" (That was the littlest one with the green in her hair, who smiled brightly at Charles) "- and Anya."  
Anya must have been the one standing behind him, and as she moved out a little, Charles suddenly understood the comment that Erik had texted him earlier.  
The whole right side of her face was covered in red and white scaly scars, blotchy and discoloured but not quite melted or disfigured. In fact, it made her ethereal somehow, unearthly. She certainly wasn't ugly- quite the opposite.  
"Nice to meet you all." replied Charles merrily. He loved that Erik felt comfortable to introduce him to his family, although it might have been because Erik had met Raven lots of times. Even if she had been drunk ninety percent of the time.  
Charles had met Edie, of course. It was impossible not to meet Edie after spending a certain amount of time with Erik.  
"You're English or something?"" asked Wanda.  
"Yes, very astute of you." said Charles, still delighted and managing to make that extremely sarcastic sentence into a genuine compliment.  
"You're dating Erik?!?!" yelled Pietro, the words excited and loud and too fast. Erik winced.  
"Yes."  
"Do you live together?" asked Lorna in confusion, and Charles and Erik exchanged a meaningful look.  
"No."  
"Then why are you here now?"  
Charles froze, Anya grinned, and Erik said:  
"Sleepover."


	2. The Car Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earlier that day...

*Earlier that day*

"Ok, we're going to be so late, so, so late, your teachers are going to kill me-"  
Anya was stealing poptarts from his cupboards, and Pietro was literally running circles around Wanda, so all that was left was for Lorna to jump up and down on the spot and go "Yay, late for school again!".  
Erik facepalmed. "Into the car. Now."  
They piled inside, chattering loudly - in an assortment of languages, he noted proudly - and he set off at a dangerous pace.  
"Guess what?" cried Wanda happily, and he smiled at her.  
"What?"  
"Today I've got art!"  
Pietro pulled a face.  
"I take it there's no running today, P'etro?"  
"Nuh uh."  
At the little boy's moody words, Erik glanced warningly into the back. "Well, at least they put you and Wanda in the same class this year."  
Last year had been a mess. Finding out, at eight years old, that they were supposed to not be in the same room for more than an hour for the first time since they were born, had sent both of the twins into a full on panic attack, ending with Pietro running off into the city and going missing for about four hours and Wanda screaming and screaming and refusing to stop and eventually being diagnosed with six separate mental disorders.  
That had not been a good day.  
Erik suddenly remembered something he probably should have thought of earlier. "Wanda, liebling, did you take your pills?"  
"Ja, Erik."  
His eyes narrowed. "Really?"  
"Yep, I promise."  
"...Ok."  
Lorna's hand shot up from the back. "Erik?"  
"What is it?"  
"I found another green hair."  
He and Anya, who was sitting in the front, exchanged a worried look. "How is that even possible?" she hissed. "She dyed her hair ONCE!"  
"I still blame you for that." replied Erik.  
"How can you? It was Mama's dye."  
"And you left it where she could- Lorna, honey, don't pull at it."  
"Well, I think green hair is beautiful, Lorna." called Anya into the back.  
"I don't believe you." murmured Lorna moodily, but smiled. " 'sides, I think you got a nice face, an' you never believe me."  
Anya smiled sadly. "It's not the same."  
"It's not different." interrupted Erik, earning the glares of both of his sisters.  
"I got silver hair!" yelled Pietro, and Wanda punched him. "Shush, idiot. This is between girls. You and Erik don't know what you're talking about."  
He pouted, and she smiled, adding "I like your hair.".  
"Yes, doch, jawhol, ja. We're all crazy-weird. How many of you have forgotten your homework?" asked Erik.  
They hesitated, and then all hands went up. He groaned.  
"Alright, alright. How many of you can bullshi- I mean, lie your way out of it?"  
Everyone except Pietro kept their hands up.  
He frowned for a second, then grinned. "My sisters ate it!"  
Erik nodded. "Good on you, kid."  
For a moment she stared at him incredulously, and then Anya laughed. "You are so irresponsible."  
"Yeah, well, I'm not Papa. I'm your older brother."

* If Edie Lehnsherr was disappointed by the fact that all of her children were a little messed up, she never let it show. She was the best mother in the world, the entire world.  
That didn't stop Erik turning out a medical psycopath, or the fire that lit up Anya's face when she was five, or Pietro being ADHD or the twins' apparently causeless separation anxiety, or Wanda's varying levels of Mentally Not Okay, or Lorna having the accident when she ate the hair dye and nearly killed herself-  
But none of that was Edie's fault.  
She was a German Jew who, despite her general badassery, got pregnant far too young (with Erik, at eighteen) and spent the next four years disowned from her family and struggling to support her son, until his father, Jakob Lehnsherr, finally managed to track her down. He apologised loudly and profusely for their respective parents's behaviour and promised to look after her and get a job and care for Erik.  
She laughed and slammed the door in his face.  
"I am perfectly fine without your pity, Jakob!" she had yelled through the keyhole.  
Unfortunately, they met again three days later in a bar and ended up in a bed together. Again.  
In the morning, Jakob (who was a tall, polite, softly-spoken young man) realised that Edie would probably not appreciate this accidental canoodling on his part - again - and attempted to sneak out early, ignoring the fact that he'd left his shoes in her bedroom.  
At which point, she appeared at an upstairs widow and screeched at him that 'Dammit, Jakob Lehnsherr, if you disappear again then I swear I'll kill you!' and threw his shoes at him. Both shoes hit him squarely on the nose, and they were married a year later. Erik had never met two people who were happier with each other.  
When Erik was eleven they moved to America. His father was a lawyer and they were fairly well-off, but they lived their entire lives with the general stoic determination that things can and will be better, and let the rest of the world try to stop them.  
It took him a while, but he learned English, and did well in maths and science and tech, and their little family was perfectly happy.  
But then someone used the word 'Jew' as an insult when Erik was fourteen and Erik attacked them and very nearly killed them, and then similar incidents began to occur and, well, it turned out Erik was a psycopath.  
Never mind. When he was eighteen, he began studying engineering.  
Edie had been far too young when she had Erik, and probably a little too old when she had Anya. There was seventeen years between the two siblings, and no one expected them to be close, and they weren't, until the fire.  
Edie and Jakob had inhaled too much smoke to be of any help, barely conscious, and so it was Erik, age twenty one, that ran back inside a burning building to haul his sister out. And when they were still incapacitated and in hospital, he was the one that held her hand as the doctors saved as much of her face as they could.  
Four years later, when Anya was eight and Erik was twenty five (and Edie was forty three), the twins were born. They had both been born with those full heads of downy baby hair that some newborns have, the little girl with the same reddish brown hue as Erik, the little boy with curious grey stuff. A genetic mutation, apparently.  
They were pretty much ok, until the whole thing with the school and the screaming happened, but before that there had, obviously, been Lorna. She was two years younger than the twins, and all round a happy, healthy kid. Unfortunately, the complications with her birth had been... complicated, and Edie couldn't have any more children. That was ok, though. Maybe five was enough.*

"Alright, Anya's going to be on time!" yelled Erik, and Lorna cheered. The middle/high school that Anya attended had closer to his apartment, and had pretty lax rules on tardiness anyway. Anya grabbed her bag and rolled her eyes, grabbing a tube of mascara from her pocket and carefully applying it to the unburnt side of her face. She never bothered with makeup on that side.  
"It astounds me how you manage to do that in a moving car," he continued, shaking his head as he aggressively manoveured around an unfortunate old lady who was probably someone's grandmother. "And without a mirror."  
"It's makeup, Erik, not rocket science."  
"Please, honey, I know how to apply makeup."  
And he did. Technically it was drag, and therefore over the top, but that was besides the point.  
"Yeah, talking of your incredible gayness, who was that in your room?"  
He ignored the question and reached across her to open her door. "Ok. Out, we're here."  
She grinned. "Not until I get a name."  
Erik glared at her, but capitulated, well aware that Anya was at least as stubborn as him. "...Charles."  
She kissed him sweetly on the cheek, and ran towards her school, but not before Wanda, Pietro and Lorna had all yelled (in unison): "Erik's got a BOYFRIEND!"

Wanda and Pietro were mildly easier to get rid of - nothing had ever managed to prevent the male of the pair from Running, because nothing in the world was as interesting as Running, although Wanda did still manage to bombard her older brother with questions about this fascinating new creature, 'Charles' - but, since Lorna's school had a rule that said parents (or, in Erik's case, irate older brothers) had to personally walk their child to class, he was stuck confronting her teacher. Again.  
It wasn't that Ms Frost was unpleasant. Just that she gave out an air of cold unfeeling, and though she smiled friendlily enough at the children, deadly flirtatiousness. The full force of which was usually levelled on Erik.  
In fact, the entire staff seemed a bit dodgy. The principle, Sebastian Shaw, made Erik's skin crawl for too many reasons to list; Mr. Quested, who had been Lorna's teacher last year, very clearly had an active hatred for children, and everyone else, in fact, except the Russian janitor, whom he frequently snogged. And, speaking of the Russian janitor with some demon's name, Erik was pretty sure he was involved in the mafia.  
"Hello, Ms Frost!" chirruped Lorna merrily, and one of the falsest smiles Erik had ever seen spread over the teacher's face. "Hello there, Lornie! Your hair gets prettier by the day, you know?"  
She nodded shyly and ran inside to talk to the loud and flamboyant Cajun boy that she'd made friends with- Remy or Remi or something.  
Erik, sharply aware that right now was his best chance to get away from Ms 'Oh, darlin', call me Emma' Frost, turned quickly on his heel.  
No, she'd been ready for that.  
"Oh, Erik," Never Mr. Lehnsherr, he thought bitterly. "I was wondering if you'd seen the kids' drawings?"  
"Yes," he grit out, turning to face them. "They're very good, for seven year olds."  
"Maybe you'd be interested in looking at something else?" she drawled in her vaguely Southern, incredibly sickly accent. He scowled, finding himself longing for Charles's inane British babble.  
"No, Ms. Frost, I would not. I would also like for you to leave me alone."  
She smiled even wider. "Oh, come on, Erik. I know you want it."  
He resisted the urge to punch her. "Firstly, you have no idea what you're talking about. Secondly, do up some of the blasted buttons on your shirt. Thirdly, I'm gay, and lastly, I'm taken. Any questions? No? Good."  
And with that, he stormed away. Maybe he'd introduce Lorna - and everyone else - to Charles after all. Better for them to understand that than try to wrap their heads around Emma Frost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, this won't be continued from here! If you want to write things in this 'verse, feel free to ask me and do so though :)

**Author's Note:**

> What Erik says in Germans means very roughly : She has lived in this country for twenty years and still can't drive, dammit.
> 
>  
> 
> Might continue, maybe with them all in the car. Thoughts?


End file.
